{"id":"69c57733948ce0defd0a5229","title":"Poetry Corner","path":"publications/annual-reviews/2023/poetry-corner","contentMarkdown":"# Poetry Corner\n\n![](https://kent.ngx-ramblers.org.uk/api/aws/s3/site-content/2c7ef935-3883-4b0c-8978-ea986102a967.jpeg)\n\n## Walking the Weald\n\nWe walk out early,\nglad of slow-growing light,\nthe mild air from the south:\nboth gifts unlooked for, now,\nin a cold month only just spilling\nclumps of daffodils across the grass --\nnodding their honey on the breeze.\n\nAnd bumblebees,\nclumsy along the path-edge,\nblundering into legs and sticks and boots,\nlike drunkards waking in surprise\nto find it's morning, after all,\nno longer a winter night's dreaming.\n\nAbove the greensand ridge we're following,\non the north edge of the Weald,\ntwo buzzards go up on thermals:\nspiral over spiral on invisible sky-stairs.\nIn their gimlet eyes we are as nothing;\ntheir shrieked calls are in a language\nmeant for each other, not for us.\n\nThen fieldfares explode ahead of us --\na hundred, more -- fling\ndiamond breasts into the haze; swirl,\ngleeful with sunlight, glutted\non rotting orchard pears;\ngleam like silver coins against the blue...\n\nNow, all along the Greensand Way,\ncrab-apples, fat and red,\ndecorate bare trees.\n\n*Lizzie Ballagher*","contentHtml":"<h1>Poetry Corner</h1>\n<p><img src=\"https://kent.ngx-ramblers.org.uk/api/aws/s3/site-content/2c7ef935-3883-4b0c-8978-ea986102a967.jpeg\" alt=\"\"></p>\n<h2>Walking the Weald</h2>\n<p>We walk out early,\nglad of slow-growing light,\nthe mild air from the south:\nboth gifts unlooked for, now,\nin a cold month only just spilling\nclumps of daffodils across the grass --\nnodding their honey on the breeze.</p>\n<p>And bumblebees,\nclumsy along the path-edge,\nblundering into legs and sticks and boots,\nlike drunkards waking in surprise\nto find it&#39;s morning, after all,\nno longer a winter night&#39;s dreaming.</p>\n<p>Above the greensand ridge we&#39;re following,\non the north edge of the Weald,\ntwo buzzards go up on thermals:\nspiral over spiral on invisible sky-stairs.\nIn their gimlet eyes we are as nothing;\ntheir shrieked calls are in a language\nmeant for each other, not for us.</p>\n<p>Then fieldfares explode ahead of us --\na hundred, more -- fling\ndiamond breasts into the haze; swirl,\ngleeful with sunlight, glutted\non rotting orchard pears;\ngleam like silver coins against the blue...</p>\n<p>Now, all along the Greensand Way,\ncrab-apples, fat and red,\ndecorate bare trees.</p>\n<p><em>Lizzie Ballagher</em></p>\n"}